Imagination

I sometimes think about what other people must be thinking about what I’m thinking.
Cycling home from my grandfather’s place early this morning, I was amused at bystanders waiting for buses. I thought about what they would be thinking about how dedicated I was about exercising everyday. I imagined conversations with real people and recollected a real conversation with someone who was actually curious enough to stop me and ask.

And then I thought about how wild my imagination was when I was younger.

When I saw men (they were probably young, but child-Varsha thought they were all uncles) on bikes, how I loved to imagine!
I imagined that they had just robbed a bank and were running away.
I imagined that they were policemen in disguise.
I imagined they had stolen other people’s bikes.
I imagined that they had murdered someone or performed some nameless crime.

I never imagined that they were late for work.

And more importantly, it never even struck me that they could be showing off.